Vice
by Allosaurus.Jei
Summary: I got inspired by a quote, "...blazed out of her f*cking skull." about Tanya. It painted a picture in my head and I just needed to write down this slightly dark, kinda sad fic. BTDubs... the whole article is 1999 words long. Booyah. M for lots of Drugs.


Disclaimer: I do most certainly not own Youjo Senki. It is written by Carlo Zen and is magnificent in either LN, Manga or Animated forms. Check 'em all out yeah?

* * *

Vice

She sat here in the smoke and noise grinning softly and chuckling silently to a joke shed already forgotten. Her eyes found the ornate hookah on the table of her private booth, a benefit of being a ' _Von'_ she'd been very keen to take advantage of. It was made of some sort of glazed, ruddy ceramic and decorated with gold and silver leaf to a rather gaudy degree. A sudden memory of a perverted manga from her other youth sent her into a guffawing fit. _I'm starting to understand why my old world was always so divided on this little plant._

* * *

Major Tanya von Degurechaff had been badly injured in a maritime sortie just a week before her 17th birthday. As a show of pity, sympathy, misguided empathy and grace depending on which of her superiors you asked she'd been put on mandatory recovery leave for a whole month. Never mind that her arm and ribs had healed in half the time. _Magic was ever so convenient sometimes_. She was a teenage girl, and an Ace amongst Aces; the Imperial Army would always try to do right by their valorous soldiers when possible, especially when its Generals had a very good idea of what a stressed out teenage girl was supposed to be privy to. Honestly it hadn't been too bad for Tanya until her late puberty had decided to show up and drop those tormentative bloody cramps on her every month or so.  
The two major fronts were in a period of stalemate and Northern HQ could handle whatever the snowy reaches could throw at them a while longer before they came crying to Central for help. So, as there was no emergency to bring her to the fore, they had decided to send her and her adjutant on a 'vacation' of sorts. Bundled away to the southern reaches of the Empire where there was a variety of charming little hamlets and mountain resorts.  
She'd become tired of those within the week, though watching Visha eat an orange and cinnamon cake had been a treat. _Seriously… who cries that hard over cake?_ Her preferences had lead her to head for the slightly sleazy jewel of the south - Munechen. Its close streets, edgy disposition and most importantly its variety in coffee houses had quickly enthralled the young mage. It was here she'd discovered another joy and it was perhaps the most grateful she'd been that The Fatherland was very unlike its otherworld equivalent during this time. The focus on merit in deeds over inborn 'superiority' had led to a culture which could have never thrived under the Fuehrer of her Earth's past. Parts of her she never even knew were there had begun to come alive the first time she stepped into one of the city's nocturnal Jazzerhause.  
The chaos of the music, the loose yet exquisite way the musicians played their instruments, the aromatic tones of coffee, sweat, fine liqueur and whatever incense the smoke carried with it all thrummed her body and mind in a way she couldn't have predicted. It was only when her adjutant had dragged the reluctant youth back to their rooms that she realised how intoxicated she had become. It was immediately clear that the place had openly encouraged the use of narcotics; technically not illegal within the boundaries of the Empire, but still widely frowned upon by the pragmatic middle classes.  
Tanya had avoided the place for a few nights until, bored and no longer needing to take every sojourn as carefully with her ribs healed she made her way back to the nightclub and once again soaked in the atmosphere with a coffee and the private booth they quickly prepared for her. It was a little dingy compared to what she was used to back in Berlun, but as they didn't utter even a syllable of protest upon seeing a tiny, blonde teenage girl with a automatic rifle slung over her back she was inclined to not bother them with what wasn't even too much of a problem. Major might seem a mighty rank but her duties had led to sleeping upright in camped train carriages at times. A soft lounge with a decorative table and some sort of expensive-looking smoking contraption was rather easy to deal with.  
At first she'd merely used the ambient fug of the club and the occasional _extra strong_ coffee to fuel her new-found desire for this buzzy enchanted feeling. However curiosity is both the rescue and ruin of mankind and hers became too much to bear. She'd never tried it in her former life, having focused on making it to the perceived zenith of the economic world. Even alcohol had been an indulgence she'd refused unless it was 'required' to make an impression at a work function. Even now she thought of herself as a _salaryman_ despite the unpredictable hormones, the memory loss from using the Type-95, the rushes and withdrawals from her combat meds and the recent nightmares that tore her in every direction but towards her cold and logical ideal. Without the benefit of 'faith' to lean on in her sobriety, there'd be no way she'd ever give in to that horrendous **Being X** , she'd turned to coping in other ways. Writing great drafts for treatises she could enact one day should circumstances allow, carving somewhat horrific little models and when the voices and the pains got too much and Visha was otherwise engaged - the occasional glass or three of schnapps. Thankfully it hadn't quite edged into full blown alcoholism just yet, but Tanya knew it was a slippery slope she was standing on.  
But her body cried out for something to dull all the pain and confusion. Surely it hadn't been this bad the first time around, she'd thought. Surely her long years as an adult would lend her some foresight and resistance against her demonic impulses. A copse you're within is much harder to fight than one without however. And despite her decades as a man, something inexplicable was happening that wouldn't be chained. Curiosity stoked her lust. Desire nullified her pain. Agony pulled her towards implied relief.  
She'd gone about her first smoke in a rather ostentatious way. Asking the waiter to invite the most 'relaxed' musician up to her booth just to nearly order the young… _something_ to instruct her in how to work the infernal water-pipe on her private table. They'd laughed at first, chuckling in a deep husky way that made her blush for some reason.  
'Normally' they didn't teach _kids_ how to smoke drugs. Being a responsible role model for the future generations. "But…"  
"But?" Tanya had snapped, glaring with her best officer eyes at the performer. Their response came after a long and uncomfortable amount of eye contact. Satisfied, or at least mollified by whatever they'd seen behind the petite Major's pupils.  
"I get the sense you're one of my kind."  
With that enigmatic response she was promptly shoved, albeit gently, into the etiquette and technique required to imbibe what was called _Persian Leaf_ or _Sham_ (from _Shamballah_ , it's supposed origin) and what the young Degurechaff instantly recognised as this world's version of cannabis.

* * *

That had been nearly a fortnight ago and here she was, just a weekend away from her triumphant and no doubt inordinately busy return to service. Wasted and giggling and trying to ignore the feelings and thoughts that kept pushing against the back of her mind. The rat-a-tat-tat of the snare set her teeth on edge and she reached across her splayed stomach for the mouthpiece. Setting its shaking head against her lips she breathed deep and let out a stream of not unpleasant tasting smoke, blue in the darkened light of the club. The edge slowly sank away from her jaw and into the depths of her stoned mind. A giggling fit came as the band on stage played a comical little riff with some nonsense lyrics.  
Viktoriya had yet to admonish her for her behaviour these last two weeks. In fact all she'd done when she'd found her commander blazed out of her skull and hiccuping softly was look sad. Not even disappointed, which Tanya could've shrugged off as inappropriate and mildly irritating, but ultimately harmless. But it hadn't been that. It was more a look of understanding she wasn't akin to in this world or the last. Then she'd picked her superior off the couch, grabbed her prize tommy gun and preceded to carry the poor wasted corpse of a girl back to her room, change her and tuck her into bed without a word. Just that kind, sad look on her face.  
The little blonde struck out at the table and was rewarded with a tingling up her arm as her numb hand registered the shock but not the pain. She didn't want Visha to make that face at her. It stirred up things she didn't yet understand, having always seen relationships as mutually beneficial _partnerships_ , both parties receiving something they couldn't get by themselves from the other. Sex. Money. Children. Drugs. She giggled at that one, only being able to understand the allure now. _Power_. She understood all of that. She also vaguely understood that Second-Lieutenant Serebryakov was unfailingly loyal to her for no higher reason than the respect that was her right as a conscripted soldier and the pity she'd taken on the older girl when pointing her at the Officer School and all but pushing.  
There was no real 'take' from her subordinate, just a whole lot of 'giving' and the occasional snark when she was feeling brave or too happy to care that she wasn't.  
Right now Tanya didn't know how to deal with that. As she is, her hormones and steadily dissolving identity cried out for something while her mind reeled. It was still a 'he' in there for the most part after all. How was _he_ supposed to deal with the _feelings_ \- another punch rattled the table - he was having while ignoring the ache in _her_ womanhood. _He_ felt disgusted by the idea of having sex as a woman while keenly aware of the difficulties, even in this more enlightened Empire, of conveying an intimate relationship with a woman as _she_ was. Was she still even a he? Was he kidding herself? His mind roiled and battled as she tried to think her way around this conundrum. She didn't notice when the tears started, but definitely felt them as they trickled into his ear. _Screw this_. Another deep breath, followed by another and another.  
Relaxed once more she sat up and beckoned the waitress over.  
"Yes Major?" she asked, her lowlands accent making her stand out amongst the rest of the locals on staff.  
"Two coffees," Tanya spoke slowly, without slurring her word. "Amaretto in the first, bring me the second after I finish the first."  
"Anything in the second one, Major?"  
"No."  
"As you wish," she curtsied, and the teenager cringed, suddenly reminded of those dreadful Maid Cafes from her time. "I'll be right back with your drink."  
Tanya nodded and grunted and turned to the music, trying to soak up as much of the delightful chaos before she was plunged back into the roaring and noisome song of the battlefield.  
The tears kept coming, but seeing as she didn't know how to stop them she carried on listening in the smoke and the stench and the scat and silently wept the night away.

End.


End file.
